


Summer of like so last year / the heart of a storm

by mrhearse



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M, Non-binary gerard, Some Explicit Sexual Content, Warped Tour 2005, mentions of alcoholism and addiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:34:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28170078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrhearse/pseuds/mrhearse
Summary: Recently sober Gerard tries to navigate Warped Tour, grief, and unexpected feelings.Major liberties have been taken concerning people's gender identity as well as events taking place in the year of Our Lord 2005.Small content warning for grief/loss.
Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way, Implied Mikey Way/Pete Wentz, Mentions of past Bert McCracken/Gerard Way
Comments: 5
Kudos: 16





	Summer of like so last year / the heart of a storm

It was the summer of 2005, the Warped Tour was on the road and rolling relatively smoothly, as tours go; like a sweaty, greasy, eyeliner-stained circus stuffed into a shiny caravan of buses.

Gerard stepped onto the stage every single night, with a few days off in between, sometimes in black velvet bell bottoms and a bulletproof vest, sometimes in a long flowy skirt, pretending like they were anywhere near as cool as Courtney Love. They were done with laughing nervously and agreeing deflatedly with interviewers that said things like “You could just _feel that it wasn't right,_ ” about their first-time-putting-on-makeup story; silence was dead, beaten to a pulp and buried six feet under. This time around they decided that if everything was going to suck anyway, which it really, _really_ did, they might as well tell those idiots to shut the fuck up and ask about the music instead.

Screaming all their lungs could take every night on stage was the only way to feel like they weren't going to explode, because being alive lately had turned the dial another notch beyond excruciating. For as long as they unloaded their anguish into the mic, everyone else in the crowd was following along, feeling the exact same thing as them. It was a kind of release, a catharsis, to stand there so utterly terrified, and so fucking alive, and feeling the raging tempest being channelled through every single person down in the pit. Hearing the crowd sing all those angry words back at them; it let Gerard know that they weren't the only one feeling like there was a long, sharp shard of glass piercing right into their heart all the time.

It was one of the most fucked up summers Gerard had ever lived through. Going on tour still stung them right in the fucking heart, even though they'd been doing it for months already, thinking about Elena, how proud she was of them for doing what she'd always encouraged them to do, when they were too scared to be themselves openly and do what they knew they were meant to do. Thinking of how they were too late to see her, to say goodbye, because they were on tour. Every fucking night Gerard lay awake, thinking about what ifs, if they had only come home a day earlier, if they hadn't spent the last weeks of her life away from her, what they would have said, if only they could have seen her one last time. Sometimes Gerard missed booze, itching to get up and find a beer somewhere at a party on another bus, just to get to sleep without dreaming. They always dreamed about her, about finding her in her hospital bed, already gone, never getting to tell her they loved her. But they guessed working through those nightmares was preferrable to all the other shit that came with being Drunk Gerard. Besides, sometimes they dreamed she was there, and they talked to her. That was the only time they would ever get to see her, so Gerard cherished those rare calm dreams. And the other nightmares, the ones about Mikey at the bottom of the river, those Gerard could work into songs that they recorded small bits of in the makeshift studio that Ray had got installed on the bus.

Things had really gone to shit towards the end of the last tour, just a couple of months before this one started. Right around Gerard hitting substance-induced rock bottom, their thing with Bert had also fallen apart. The two were probably somewhat connected. They had played down the situation to the press, acting like nothing was wrong just to get through the last leg of the tour without a fucking first page coverage of the falling out between two previously inseparable lead singers. That was seriously the last thing any of them needed. But when there were no cameras, there had been a lot of yelling and a lot of words said that none of them probably meant. The part about Gerard needing to get away from the whole party scene was true. The part about their fling never being what they had wanted had come out wrong. Bert had smashed up the lounge in The Used's bus and spit out something about finally having a reason to get better, but Gerard had been too angry and hurting to really make any sort of attempt to understand what that meant. The whole thing had been a mess. Gerard had stared out the window with puffy, red eyes the entire drive home to Jersey, saying nothing and ignoring most of Mikey's attempts at consoling them with a gentle hand on their shoulder.

They had barely gotten one month at home with their parents before they had to do it all over again. Gerard barely slept any better during those weeks than they did in the bunks on the tour bus, being back in the house where there was so many memories of their grandmother, floating through every room like spectres. No familiar rumbling of the engine or steady vibrations of the bus to lull them to sleep, just the dead silence of a suburban neighbourhood at night and the company of their own thoughts. And they kept having dreams about Bert, smiling brightly and holding them close with an arm around their shoulders. Those dreams hurt beacause when they woke up they would realize that they were at home, alone, in their old basement bedroom, where Bert had never been and never would be, and that those loose, easy smiles and rough, warm hands holding them would never come back.

Going on another tour was simultaneously like stepping into old, worn in shoes, and jumping out of a plane without a parachute. This time Gerard had to learn how to be a totally new front-person for the band, learn how to deal with being more present and clear-headed when they stepped out on stage. They had to get used to singing with a new sense of sharpness, a new focus. It was terrifying, but it felt right. That new clarity, that sureness that they were doing something important, was the only thing keeping them standing on their feet in the middle of the whole shitshow tornado that was their life on the road. In between interviews, soundchecks, playing shows, driving between venues, and writing and recording new songs, Gerard had to maintain whatever core of their being that was left, if they really had any. Sometimes it didn't really feel like that. In between everything you had to do and be during tour, there was minimal time for personal drama, and yet Gerard had their fair share of it. Bert was still lurking in the back of their mind, Gerard almost expected to see him standing side-stage or in the crowd when My Chem played, like he'd done a million times it felt like. Being on tour without The Used felt off, like something was missing. But when Gerard remembered how the two of them had fought, they were glad Bert wasn't on this tour. The rumors had to be seeping out to the hungry journalists by now, and it would have been so much worse if Gerard had to deal with that _and_ avoid looking at Bert all summer at the same time. They tried to count their blessings.

The one thing Gerard managed to hold onto when they felt like everything was bound to fall apart, was that after getting sober, some things that they used to think were important, had faded into the background, and the actually important things had become clearer. Without the booze and pills numbing everything down, they didn't want to just let it slide anymore, they felt so much more acutely who they were meant to be. Now Gerard unabashedly corrected any interviewer that called them _him_ , and gave even more lip to the audience than ever whenever some asshole in the crowd called them a faggot for wearing a skirt. Some things still supremely, profoundly sucked, but some things were falling into place. And some things were good, given the circumstances.

One good thing about this tour was seeing Mikey smile more than he had done for the past two years combined, probably. Gerard could tell that something about this summer was different, and they guessed with pretty solid confidence that it had a thing or two to do with a certain member of another band on the tour. Fall Out Boy was constantly running down the door to the My Chem bus, and Mikey insisted on catching as many of their shows as he could, always standing on the side of the stage grinning like an idiot, watching them play. He hadn't told Gerard about any of it, but they could see it in his smile. That smile hadn't made an appearance since that time Mikey had dragged Gerard into a random bookshop in town only to leave them by the cookbook aisle to go flirt with the hot goth girl working the register. Either Mikey didn't know that Gerard was onto him, or he just acted like nothing was out of the ordinary to avoid talking about it. Gerard wasn't going to push it if Mikey didn't want to talk. Sneaking off with Pete after dark seemed to make Mikey happy, and Gerard thought he really deserved it. It had been a rough couple of years for the both of them.

*

“Hey, Gee,” Frank pulled the curtain aside a couple inches and stuck his head into Gerard's bunk. Gerard hit pause on _What Difference Does It Make?_ and took one of their earbuds out, looking over and giving Frank a small smile. “What's up?”

Frank had his hand on the edge of the thin mattress. “You wanna go for a smoke?” That was his nice way of saying “You've been in here sulking for the past three hours, now get it together, get your pale ass out and get some sunlight.” Frank was one of the other really good things about this tour. Gerard nodded.

Jumping down from their bunk with a practised move, Gerard followed Frank out of the bus and down onto the worn asphalt. Between the buses there was some shadow shielding them from the unrelenting sun, but Gerard still unhooked their huge, black sunglasses from the collar of their t-shirt and put them on. The parking lot was a lot brighter than the inside of the bunks, and it hurt their eyes.

Frank held out his open box of cigarettes, and Gerard fished one out. They put it between their lips and let Frank light it for them, then leaned against the side of the bus, sucking in the smoke.

“You okay?” Frank asked. He also had his sunglasses on, but he was making that concerned line with his mouth around the cigarette, so Gerard knew exactly what his eyes were saying without having see them.

“Yeah, I'm okay,” Gerard nodded, blowing the smoke down and away from Frank's face. “Just, you know. Nervous about the show.”

Frank nodded, twisting his mouth knowingly. “It'll be fine, Gee. You're gonna be great. You always are.”

Gerard looked at Frank's dark sunglasses. “It's because I have you guys backing me up.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Frank said, his tone tired but gentle. “That's not the point.” He took several drags of his cigarette, and Gerard did the same, not knowing what to say.

“You're still kicking, you know?” Frank went on, waving his cigarette around and looking off towards the fields behind the parking lot. “I'm proud of you.”

Gerard shifted their feet on the cracked asphalt and used their free arm to hug themself a little.

“How come you _get it_ , Frank?”

Frank turned his head slightly towards them again. “Get what.”

“Me,” Gerard said. Frank carefully blew out a stream of white smoke, before dropping his finished cigarette to the ground and crushing it underneath his dirty sneaker.

“I don't know,” he put both of his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “You're my brother. Um.” He cleared his throat. “Sibling, I mean.” He shuffled awkwardly and looked down at his feet, slightly red in the face. “Family.”

Gerard gave him a tiny smile, to tell him it was okay. They'd come to accept that it was hard for the others sometimes to get it right all the time, which was understandable, since, unlike Gerard, they hadn't had years to think it over.

“Are you going to that party with Matchbook later?” Gerard asked to change the subject. They could tell Frank was looking at them from behind his sunglasses.

“You want company tonight?” he asked with a soft voice.

Gerard shook their head, looking down. “No, no, if you want to go, you should. It's my own choice to have no social life.”

Frank shifted his weight to the other foot. “Hey, no, if you want me to stay in with you, I will. You're more important than some party, okay? There's always gonna be another one to go to, anyway.”

Gerard sighed. Frank was right about one thing. There was always going to be another party, a thousand more, and Gerard couldn't go to any of them anymore. It was strange, and really annoying, to be surrounded by people constantly, never having real privacy, really, but still feeling so far away from everyone. Being sober on tour was really fucking lonely. Gerard's misery must have showed on their face, because Frank said:

“You know, Andy from Fall Out Boy is straight edge, you could probably hang out with him, if you wanted. He won't judge you for not drinking. He's a cool dude.”

Gerard bit their lip. “Yeah...” they said quietly. Frank had a point. But Gerard felt like it would be intruding on Mikey's space. Which actually made no sense, considering Andy wasn't the one he was hanging out with, but still. In some respects all of Fall Out Boy was one unit. Mikey was over on their bus all the time. It would be weird if Gerard started showing up there too. Mikey probably didn't want them seeing him suck face with Pete, or whatever it was they were doing.

“But Mikey hangs out with them all the time. I don't want to be that person that's, like – ” they cut off, taking a final drag of their cigarette that was down to the filter now. “I want to be independent, you know?”

Frank nodded and made a face like he pretended to understand. Gerard knew that he didn't, and that was okay.

“Hey, we still have some time before sound check,” Frank said, looking down at his watch. “You wanna go get coffee?”

Gerard dropped their smoke to the ground and pushed themself away from the bus. “Yeah, sure.”

*

Despite the fact that they had all given him concerned and sympathetic looks when Frank had said he didn't feel like going out tonight after all, Frank had convinced the rest of the guys to go to the party that Matchbook Romance hosted in a hotel a little way off the festival grounds. Mikey had given Gerard a questioning eyebrow, and Gerard had answered with a nod and an eyebrow move of their own, and Mikey had seemed satisfied with that, giving them a real smile and waving as he headed out of the bus along with Ray and Bob. Gerard was sprawled out on the narrow couch in the lounge, drinking a diet coke and half-assedly watching The Crow on the little TV.

“How the fuck am I supposed to network when I go to virtually none of these parties?” they asked the room defeatedly. “Nobody even knows who I am!”

“Gerard,” Frank chuckled next to him, “ _Literally_ _everyone_ knows who you are. And they know you don't drink anymore, so don't worry about it.”

Frank's phone rang, and he fished it out of his pocket. “Yeah? Cool,” he looked at Gerard and mouthed  _pizza_ . “Hang on, I'll be out in a sec.”

Gerard heard him exchange a few light words with the delivery guy outside, and then he was back in the lounge, putting the box down on the wobbly little table and crawling back onto the couch.

Gerard opened the box, looking down at the slightly steaming pizza, which at first to their delight, they saw had mushrooms on it. Then they frowned. “Hey,” they said, looking disapprovingly up at Frank. “I said you could choose the toppings.”

“Yeah, I know,” Frank said matter-of-factly, taking a slice and settling back into the couch, looking at the screen.

“But –” Gerard tried. Frank didn't like mushrooms.

Frank cut them off. “Just be grateful, you idiot,” he said and rolled his eyes. Gerard decided to not say anything else about it, they just took a slice, leaned back, and gave Frank a long look. Frank glanced back out of the corner of his eye, but didn't comment. Gerard turned back to the screen, even though they were only vaguely watching the movie at this point. Eric was jumping up on the edge of the long table and was about to get shot with a million bullets now. It was a really cool scene, but then again, every scene in this movie was good. Gerard felt distracted and unfocused.

“So you don't think people will forget I exist after this tour?” Gerard asked the TV, which didn't answer, just showed Eric getting peppered with lead. “I would hate for our band to sort of slip under the radar just because I can't be a real rock star.”

“Dude,” Frank started, then corrected himself and started over. “Gerard. Kids still come to see us every single day. Almost _all_ of our shows are sold out. People aren't going to think any less of you just because you're sober. Besides,” he grabbed his soda from the table and took a sip, looking over at Gerard with soft eyes. “You're like the most memorable person ever. It's not possible to _not_ remember you.”

Gerard scoffed. “What's so special about me?”

“I dunno, it's – you're...” Frank shook his head and looked around the lounge for an answer. “I don't know. Maybe it's your energy, or something. Your repugnant _smell_ , probably,” he added. “Now stop with the self loathing, already, it's driving me nuts.”

*

“Is that a new shirt?” Frank asked from the kitchen as he reemerged from the small fridge with a sanwich and a six-pack of lemonades. Mikey plopped down on the couch in the lounge and casually put his legs up on the table. He was wearing a black shirt with _Basket Case_ printed in big, red, dripping letters.

Gerard was positive it was not something Mikey had “borrowed” from them, even though they kind of wished it was. It was a really cool shirt.

“Uh, yeah, I traded it from a tech for a bag of weed,” he said in a tone that gave nothing away, grabbing the remote and flipping on the TV. As Frank came back to the lounge, Mikey reached his hand out, and Frank gave him a can of lemonade and grinned approvingly. Gerard just looked at the TV, where Mikey had settled for a wildlife documentary about sea birds. They were positive they had seen someone wearing that same shirt around camp some time during the summer, but it was definitely not a tech. Gerard wasn't going to say anything.

*

“Isn't it boring to hang out with me all the time?” Gerard asked, taking a drag of their cigarette and breathing it out in a long, heavy sigh. They knew they were being dramatic, and they didn't care.

“Why would that be boring?” Frank shot back. “You're my friend. You're cool.”

Gerard chewed on their lip, keeping their eyes looking straight ahead at the pink and deep orange skyline where the sun was setting. They were still buzzing with remnants of that jittery post-show energy, feeling both light and heavy at the same time, full of something that could be both exhilaration or nervousness.

“'Cus... because you never get to do anything fun,” they said dully. “We're on _tour_ , everyone's out partying, and here you are, sitting in the fucking parking lot with _me_ , drinking sparkling water that's warmer than the inside of your asshole. You know?”

Frank snorted out a laugh.

“Okay, first of all, I have fun playing shows, that's why I'm here. Everything else about tour sucks anyways, that's just a fact. Sunburn, festival toilets... No showers? It's a nightmare!” Gerard watched as Frank took another drag of his cigarette, smiling a little to themself.

“Secondly, you ever consider I _like_ hanging out with you?” Frank turned his head towards them with a small, amused smile. “And for your information I actually enjoy watching the sunset, too. I'd do it even if you weren't here.” He took a swig from his water bottle. “The company is nice, though, even though I can't hear myself think when you're around.”

Gerard wondered for a second if that was a good or a bad thing, but before they could think too hard about it, Frank said,

“You wanna go do something _fun_?” Flicking his cigarette butt to the ground, he looked over at Gerard with his eyebrows raised.

“Like what,” Gerard said. Frank got to his feet, brushing the dust off his ass.

“Like... rolling down a hill?”

Gerard looked up at him and tried to figure out if he was being serious.

“What,” Frank teased. “Are you too old for rolling down hills now? Come on,” He reached out his hand, and Gerard took it, letting Frank haul them to their feet.

Frank dragged them by the hand out from the parking lot, and out into the dry, grazzy fields surrounding the festival camp. At the top of a hill, a good way away from anything that could be considered civilization, they stopped, and Frank dropped to his ass, getting into position to roll. Gerard eyed the grass warily.

“I dunno, Frank...”

Frank looked up at him with wide eyes. “Come  _on_ ! You said you wanted me to have fun. This is fun, okay?”

“There are ticks,” Gerard said carefully, debating with themself whether getting on the ground was worth it.

Frank rolled his eyes and laid down on his back demonstratively.

“So I'll check you afterwards. Now come on,” Frank gave them one last look, then wrapped his arms over his chest like a vampire going to sleep in its coffin, and rolled over, being taken by gravity down the grassy hill. Wide eyed, Gerard watched him pick up speed on his way down, and heard him yelling enthusiastically. When he eventually stoppped rolling, he sat up and let out a joyful cry.

“Now it's your turn!”

Gerard felt themself slowly give in. They grinned, and got gingerly to their knees, testing the ground. It seemed soft enough, even if the grass was a little dry and yellowed. They let themselves tumble down the hill just as Frank had done, holding their arms close to their chest so their joints wouldn't bend any way they weren't supposed to. The world was spun into violent motion, like they were inside a wheel going round and round, and they squeezed their eyes shut, feeling the ground shift and give way under them. Then, as they felt the rotations start to slow down, they bumped roughly into something solid.

“Oof,” Frank laughed, gripping Gerard's hip to steady them, “You got real momentum, there.” His voice was tinted with humor, and a little bit of admiration.

Gerard sat up, the world still spun gently around them, and they felt something extatic soaring in their chest. They couldn't help but to laugh, Frank was right, this was fun, in such a child-like, physical way, the rush of adrenaline and the feeling of the grass under their hands as they steadied themself. Around them, the sun was setting for real, casting the fields and the trees and the festival tents in the distance into soft shades of purple and gray. Before Gerard even had time to catch their breath, Frank leapt to his feet, sticking his hand out and saying,

“Let's go again,” and Gerard took his hand.

They ran up the hill and threw themselves back down, over and over, and Gerard stopped worrying about the bugs in the grass, and all the parties they couldn't go to. They just let themself spin round and round and lose sense of everything but the smell of dry grass and dirt and the beating of their own heart. Frank laughed breathlessly somewhere next to them, sounding blissful and excited, and they both lay on their backs at the bottom of the hill, catching their breaths, looking up at the darkening summer sky.

After a while the sun disappeared behind the trees, draining the vibrant colours of the sunset from the world. The air was getting cooler, and Gerard sighed in relief. Finally they could feel their sweat starting to dry, and the lack of light pollution out here made the stars stand out more starkly against the vast night. It was so quiet, the festival far away. Gerard listened to the sounds of birds chirping and flapping their wings among the trees, and the soft breeze slanting over the fields, and to Frank's calm breathing.

“Tonight was a really good show,” Gerard spoke to the sky. They could still hear the roar of the crowd in their head, picture their tear stained and blissful faces spitting back at them over the railing at the front of the stage. They could still feel that moment when the tightness in their chest released and exploded into a million stars, the way it does every single time they're closing a show. That feeling still remained, that lightness, making Gerard feel almost like they were flying, even with the hard, dry grass sticking into their back.

“Yeah,” Frank breathed in return.

“Thank you,” Gerard said, letting their eyes skim over the stars, taking in how fucking incredible and innumerable they were, glowing above them. Frank didn't say anything, but Gerard felt an inquisitive energy coming from his direction.

“For taking me here, I mean. I really needed it.”

After a while, Frank answered softly, “Anytime.”

Gerard sat up, looking over at him.

“Frank?”

Frank let his eyes fall down from the sky and onto Gerard's face. He hummed in response.

Gerard took a breath, and just let themself say what they were thinking before they could change their mind. “I don't know what I would do without you.”

Frank let a small smile ghost over his face. “Sit in your bunk and feel sorry for yourself, probably.”

Gerard chuckled despite themself, and nodded.“Yeah, you're probably right.” Frank was pretty much always right, when it came to Gerard, it seemed, and Gerard had no idea how the fuck he did that. They sighed.

“I miss her.”

Frank said, “Yeah.”

“It still feels so weird. Do you think it's ever going to not feel weird?” Gerard studied the dry, scorched grass, sticking out of the dirt in pale brown chunks. Talking about Elena in a calm manner like this, without feeling like they were going to tear apart at the seams, was a little unfamiliar. It had just become a fact of life, after she died, that they were going to miss her forever, that everything would be painful to continue; breathing, moving, standing still, smiling. But nothing could hurt in that moment, Gerard realized. Just for a second, something lifted. All they could feel was the still warm ground under their ass, the open field and the trees around them, the way Frank was still looking at them with eyes dark and deep as pools.

Frank breathed. “I don't know.”

After a while, he said, “Sometimes I worry.” He looked up towards the sky again. Gerard looked at how his damp, dark hair was stuck to his forhead in little wisps. “About my grandfather. He's in good health, but. What if something happens when I'm a million miles away, you know?”

Gerard did know.

“He knows you're living your dream,” they said softly. “He wouldn't want you to give that up.”

Frank hummed and smiled weakly. “Yeah, he always told me not to become a musician because I wouldn't be able to make a living off of it.”

“Well, you proved him wrong, then, didn't you?”

Frank looked over at them, and a wide grin stretched across his face.

“We did.”

Gerard felt themself smile too, something warm and bright stirring inside their chest. Pride. They _had_ really made it, this tour seemed to be the proof of that. Sold out shows all over the country. All the magazines were talking about them. They knew Elena was proud of them, wherever she was now. For a moment, things weren't so bad.

“Maybe we should get back,” Frank mused. It was starting to get on the edge of chilly.

“You think the others are wondering where we are?” Gerard replied in a joking tone. If anyone was back from the party yet, which Gerard doubted, they would most likely be going right into their bunk to pass out, and not bother to check if everyone were in their respective beds.

Frank chuckled. “Maybe not, but I'm hungry.”

Gerard realized they were too. “I could go for some nachos or something. You think anyone still has any vegan mayo left?”

“Let's go find out,” Frank said, getting to his feet.

On the way back, Gerard thought out loud. “Isn't it kind of strange how time moves differently when you're sober?”

Frank hummed next to them, walking in casual step with them, his hands in his pockets. “What do you mean?”

“Like,” Gerard tried to articulate what they meant, but it was a little tricky. “Everything is more... steady? Time feels like it's not going as fast. Like it's waiting for me to catch up.”

Frank looked at them silently. “Is that weird?” Gerard asked.

“No, it's not weird,” Frank said. “I'm glad you feel that way.”

They walked around the festival camp for a while, and eventually Gerard scoped out a food truck that was open on the far side of the stage they had played that day. All the roadies and stage workers that swarmed backstage after shows were gone now, and it was dark and quiet. In front of the food truck there was a small line of people, and as they waited, Gerard smiled and waved a little at two clearly drunk girls that looked like they recognized them. As they turned to leave, the girls giggled and waved back, looking back over their shoulders several times as they walked off between the tents. Gerard handed Frank his nachos wrapped in a piece of waxpaper, and they headed back towards the parking lots, away from the stage and the smell of frying oil and drunk people.

Gerard felt their heart sink a little bit, once again. “Not that I really want to, everything considered, but,” they sighed. “Not going to any of these parties kind of sucks. Like, I used to... be much more... fun. You know? Before.”

“We just had _lots_ of fun, no party required,” Frank said around a mouthful of soft chips and fake cheese. “And if I hear you chew yourself out one more time, I'm going to punch you in the face. I'm serious.”

Gerard looked over, and determined that Frank was _absolutely_ serious, but he had a look in his eyes that told Gerard it would probably be more of a slap on the wrist. Point taken, anyway.

They passed a bus where, around the side of it, they heard a few distinct, wet sounds, and then two voices giggling and shushing each other when they realized someone were nearby. Frank chuckled almost inaudibly and waggled his eyebrows over at Gerard, and Gerard couldn't help but smile. Frank made jokes about it the rest of the way to the bus, imitating the wet slurping noises and laughing loudly when Gerard exclaimed that he was being gross.

Gerard pulled their cigarettes ouf of their pocket, getting two out of the flat, wrinkled carton, and handed one to Frank. They must have sat on it when they were rolling around earlier, but Gerard decided after a quick inspection that they were fine, although a little bit bent. Frank accepted the wonky cigarette, and Gerard leaned against the side of the bus, concentrating on grinding their sneakers aginast the asphalt, the smoke in their lungs and the quiet parking lot, the distant noise far away.

“You know... I like you better when you're sober, actually,” Frank said then. “You're not as cocky.”

Gerard looked up, and Frank was shovelling the last of his nachos into his mouth. He stuffed the wrapping into his pocket, chewing cheerfully and finally lighting his smoke.

Gerard didn't really know what to say to that. Sometimes Frank was just so ridiculously casual about delivering these big messages. Maybe Gerard could learn a thing or two about being casual from him. They bit their lip and gave Frank a tight, awkward smile, butted the tip of their sneaker against Frank's foot, and took another drag of their cigarette. From the way Frank looked steadily back at them, blowing smoke into their face, Gerard figured he got it.

*

“What about, try going up to C, after that part,” Ray suggested while Mikey was strumming a potential new line for a song.

“You don't think it'll be too generic?” Mikey asked, and Ray shook his head.

“I don't think so, but just try it and see how it sounds to you.”

Gerard sang the melody over Mikey's strumming, without any spesific words, just feeling out the dark notes of the bass contrasting their own voice. The studio on the bus was tiny, really not big enough to fit all of them, even though they had gutted out half the bus to make room for it. Equipment took up an annoyingly large amount of space, as it turned out, but that didn't stop them from trying to fit as many people in the studio as possible. Gerard and Mikey were crammed together on the small seat, Bob was pressed against the wall, and Ray was standing just inside the door, by the microphone. Lately, Frank worked best when he could listen to what the others had written, and then write his own melodies over it, so he hadn't wanted to squeeze himself into the small booth, but they let the door stay open so he could listen from the kitchen, if he wanted to comment on something at some point.

“Yeah, I like that,” Mikey said, playing the line over again.

“What about going down instead, to change it up,” Bob said, looking over at Ray. Ray looked intrigued, though a little sceptical.

“I quite like the continuity of it, because what Gerard's doing is so repetative in the beginning. And the steady tom that you wanted gives it sort of a Metallica vibe.”

Bob nodded solemnly and thought hard about that.

“I think I'm actually feeling something lighter for this, now that I've slept on it. More snare, uh. You know, like a marching band type of thing.”

“Do that over my line, then, Bob,” said Mikey, and started his bassline over from the top. Bob tapped his drumsticks on the side of one of the amps, to which Ray gave him a bug-eyed glare, but he didn't say anything. Gerard waited for Mikey and Bob to figure out their synch before they started singing again. From out in the kitchen Frank hollered “That's good!” and Gerard grinned.

*

It was late, way past midnight, when Mikey finally stumbled onto the bus, slid past Gerards bunk, and fumbled himself into his own. Gerard was awake, they couldn't sleep, and had their sketchbook propped up on their knees behind the closed curtain. If Mikey had noticed their lamp being on, he didn't acknowledge it. Gerard could hear him breathing, his bunk was opposite Frank's, not even six feet away. They waited a while, listening to the silence and the others' slow breathing and slight snoring, the faint, distant night noises of the tour, barely audible music and hollers from far away. Mikey tossed and rustled his thin sheets, then his breathing eventually slowed and evened out, becoming steady and deep.

Gerard went back to drawing, trying to sketch as quietly as possible so they wouldn't wake any of the others with their pencil scratching, and then they heard a few small sounds coming from somewhere across the aisle. A sudden gasp, and quiet rustling of sheets, then quick, shallow breathing, loud in the quiet darkness. They heard a sigh, some movement, and what was maybe feet on the carpeted floor. It wasn't Mikey's sigh, Gerard could tell as much. A few seconds later, the curtain to Gerard's bunk was being pulled gently aside, and Frank's face appeared. He looked tired, his eyes kind of sunken, and he squinted a little bit against the light of Gerard's lit lamp.

“Hey,” he whsipered.

“Hey,” Gerard whispered back, “Something wrong?”

“I just. Had a bad dream. I...”

“You wanna come up?” Gerard asked, pulling the curtain open a little more. Frank nodded, and climbed up the narrow ladder. Gerard wiggled a bit and pulled their knees further up, making room for Frank to get in. Frank sat crouched at the foot end of the bunk, leaning against the wall.

“You don't mind the light?” Gerard asked softly. Frank shook his head.

“You wanna talk about it?”

Frank sighed and closed his eyes. “Not really.” He wiggled closer to Gerard, pulling at the sheets and pulling them up over his knees.

“Okay,” Gerard said.

“What're you drawing?” Frank asked. Gerard appreciated that he didn't lean over to try to look at their sketch. They didn't turn the sketchbook around, just looked at the page before looking up at Frank. Looked at his dark circles and heavy eyelids. At the way he was hugging his own knees.

“A witch burning at the stake,” Gerard said softly. Frank lowered his head and laughed softly.

“Metal.”

Gerard looked at him, just because they liked looking at him, until he said, “Well, don't let me stop you. Finish your Joan.”

“It isn't Joan,” Gerard murmured.

“Okay,” Frank whispered back. Gerard gathered that he just wanted the company, so they went back to their sketch. They could feel Frank's eyes on them, but they ignored it, just focused on darkening the shadows and outlines on the drawing, making the flames reach higher up to the sky.

*

The guys had felt less bad than usual to leave Gerard at the bus to go to a party somewhere, because they had all spent their day off in town together. And Gerard was honestly pretty okay with this, apart from the obvious shittiness of not being able to go to parties because they were working really hard at staying sober. They weren't going to stop their friends from having fun the way they wanted, just because they couldn't participate. Besides, they had gotten a couple of new CD's at half off from the record store that Ray had dragged them into earlier, and they were perfectly content to just lay in their bunk and listen through them and draw for the rest of the night. However, after a while, they were surprised by hearing the sounds of someone tinkering around somewhere on the bus. They took out one earbud and listened for clues, pulling their curtain a little to the side, and a few seconds later Frank appeared in the bunk area.

“Wanna go for a smoke?”

Gerard paused their music and took the other earbud out. “I thought you went out?”

Frank shrugged and made a face.

“Eh. I wasn't feeling it.” He looked expectantly at Gerard. “You coming or what?”

Gerard had pretty much figured out Frank's tactic for getting them out of their own shroud of self pity, but that didn't mean that they didn't bite. They weren't going to refuse an offer to have a smoke with Frank in the parking lot, when Frank stayed behind on the bus again instead of partying with Circa Survive. Gerard joined him to stand in the evening light between the buses, kicking pebbles and blowing smoke up at the sky. When Frank talked, his lip piercing glinted occasionally in the sunlight, and Gerard was fascinated. Frank moved his head a lot when he talked. Then, suddenly, he stopped talking, and looked at Gerard expectantly.

“Hm?” Gerard shifted their eyes up to Frank's and pretended like they hadn't just been staring. They suspected that Frank was not fooled, though.

“What do you want for dinner?” Frank repeated, with a smile tugging at his lips.

Gerard felt their face heat up, and hoped to God that it didn't show. “Pizza?”

Frank didn't need to be asked twice.

It churned inside Gerard's head as they went inside the bus again, and it dawned on them that they _had_ totally been staring. At Frank's _mouth._ Probably for an extended period of time. As they ate their pizza, Gerard tried to sneak little glances over at him, watching the way he licked tomato sauce off the corner of his mouth, and trying to figure out what exactly was going on. Frank was talking about one time he got pulled over while on his way to play a show with his old band, but Gerard was only partly following, and after a while they picked up their sketchpad, hoping it would help them zen out. Frank took the cue, and got up from the couch, going into the bunks. A little while later he came back out and slumped down again with his own notebook. Against their better judgement, Gerard started pencilling the lines and curves of Frank's face in the blank corner of the page. His eyes and brows first, his long fringe falling across half his face. They had drawn Frank a hundred times; they had always been of the opinion that he had the perfect bone structure for drawing, with his sharp jaw and big eyes. They carefully drew the sloping lines of his mouth, looking up now and then to make sure they got it right. They wondered if Frank would notice them looking at him, but he remained occupied by his notebook, scratching away with his pen. Eventually Gerard put their sketchpad down on the table.

“Frank?” they said. Frank hummed, briefly glancing over.

“Can I kiss you?”

Frank tunred his head to look at them properly, searching their face with wide and surprised eyes. He took a long time to answer, and Gerard almost started to regret asking, when Frank said,

“Sure.”

Gerard stared back, blinking, and tried to remember to breathe. “Right now?”

Frank looked around the room thoughtfully for a moment before settling his eyes back on Gerard's face. “Yes.” Gerard didn't move at first, they suddenly weren't sure if they were able to, and Frank moved to sit up so their faces were level. Gerard saw Frank's eyes drop down to their mouth, and he just waited. They leaned in, heart hammering, and pressed a small kiss to his lips. It was just a soft peck, and then Gerard pulled away again, just enough to look for the reaction on Frank's face. He didn't seem alarmed, just curious.

“Okay?” Gerard asked. Frank nodded. Gerard licked their lips and leaned in again, placing another gentle kiss on Frank's mouth, placing a tentative hand on the side of his neck. His hair was getting to that length where it starting to curl up around his ears, and Gerard combed their fingers through it. Frank leaned into the kiss, moving slowly against Gerard's mouth, and Gerard held him firmer with the hand on his neck, mostly to hold themself up. It was so different from all the kisses Gerard had had the past three years, or ever, probably. There was no heavy fog clouding their mind or clogging their senses, no loud music or flashing lights or smell of stale beer, it was just them and Frank, who tasted like pizza and diet coke and smelled vaguely of cigarettes. Frank opened his mouth and let Gerard suck his lip ring into their mouth, humming and breathing deeply through his nose. Gerard felt a warm hand slide up their thigh, and shivered. Not having their senses distorted or blurred by any drugs, they could feel everything so much more clearly, Frank's warm breath on their face and his hand on their thigh, the soft, slightly greasy hair at the back of his neck and sharp stubble on his lip.

“Frank, I –” Gerard stuttered, placing a hand over Frank's.

“Was that too much?” Frank asked, moving his hand away from Gerard's thigh, but Gerard grabbed it and held on, not letting him pull back.

“No! It's fine, it was nice. I just,” It was hard to put into words what they meant. They weren't really sure how they were feeling exactly. “It's just weird to, um,” Gerard felt so stupid for getting stressed about this. “Do this sober.” they finished.

“Do you want to stop?” Frank asked gently. He looked sympathetic. Gerard took a deep breath.

“Yeah, I think so,” they breathed out. “Is that okay?”

“Of course,” Frank said. He was looking gently and steadily at Gerard's face.

“Sorry,” Gerard said. Frank shook his head. “Don't be sorry. If you don't want to, I won't make you.”

“But I – I _do_ want to. I just. I think I need to think for a little bit. Can we... pick it up later?”

“Okay,” Frank said easily, and sat back against the cushions.

Gerard bit their lip and looked thoughtfully at Frank's knees, where glimpses of dark ink were visible under the rips in his worn jeans.

“Do you want to watch Fellowship?” they asked, mostly to break the silence. They got up from the couch and crouched down next to the DVD player. Taking out the disc that was already in, which they noticed was Mikey's bootleg copy of Gremlins, they wondered briefly who had watched that, and when. Behind them, Frank laughed quietly, strangely, like he couldn't breathe properly.

“Not really, no. You go ahead, though, I'll just read a book or something.”

Gerard straightened up and turned around to look at him. The lounge was small, there really wasn't that much space between the two of them, but Gerard suddenly felt a cold wave washing up inside their stomach, feeling like Frank was very far awy.

“Shit. Did I make this weird?” they asked in a small voice, starting to nervously wring their hands together, just to have something to hold onto. “Should I not have –” Fucking _kissed you_. _Fuck_. Gerard was ready to go lie in their bunk for the rest of the tour, but Frank cut them off.

“No no, you didn't, it's fine! I'm just not really in the mood for Fellowship right now.” He looked sincere, face open and honest, so Gerard decided they believed him.

“Okay...What are you in the mood for?”

Frank sort of looked them up and down, and then he looked away, trying to hide a small smile. He cleared his throat and said, “Um...” and  _oh_ . That's when Gerard got it. His hand on their thigh that they had stopped.

“Dawn of the Dead?” Frank proposed with a humoured expression. Gerard pressed their lips together, trying to figure out what the fuck was going on, and what they should do.

They settled for nodding, and turning back around to sift through the stack of home-burned DVD's in the box underneath the player. “The new one?” Gerard asked without turning around, pulling out a disc from the pile and trying to read Mikey's illegible scrawl. “I think we have the old one here somewhere too, but it's like scratched to shit.”

Frank hummed in agreement behind them. When they had put on Dawn, and turned back around, Frank was patting the cushion next to him in a definite “come here” motion. Gerard sat, and Frank put his arm around their shoulders.

“Is this okay?” Frank asked, and Gerard nodded. “Yeah.”

The way Frank had looked at them... maybe they shouldn't have asked to stop? That look was different than the ones they had gotten from others before, it was steady and hot but not at all demanding. It was just Frank, open and earnest and calm.

Was this a rebound? Gerard wasn't sure. They hadn't even been sure what exactly they had been with Bert, what whatever they'd had should be called. They had never talked about it. Bert had definitely not been their boyfriend. But they had made out, held hands, partied together, fucked. Gerard felt a little bit sick and shaky when they thought about how there wasn't a single time they'd slept with Bert when they weren't completely wasted. How apparent it was, now that they were sober, that Bert didn't love them... that he was only interested in someone to push up against the wall in some disgusting pub bathroom, and how Gerard had willingly been that for him.

“Gerard,” Frank said next to them, “I can _hear_ your brain grinding right now, what's goin' on.”

His soft voice pulled Gerard out of their train of thought.

“Just...” they didn't know what they had planned to say, and it trailed off. “Do you chink I'm easy?”

Frank furrowed his eyebrows and glanced wearily over at them. “No, why would I think that?”

“Because I kissed you,” Gerard said. They kept their eyes on the TV, but they weren't really paying close attention to the movie. They'd seen it before, it was more out of familiarity, to have something to absently rest their eyes on, focusing vaguely on the bright colours on the screen.

“I didn't mind,” Frank replied. “I said you could.”

“Yeah, but I've – When I was fucked up, I at least had an excuse. I've barely been sober for like two months, and I practically throw myself at you. I just don't want you to think I'm. Like that.”

“I don't,” Frank said. “If anything, I think I was the one throwing myself at you.”

Gerard turned their head a little so they could look at Frank's face. He looked back with a sideways glance. It was a little weird to talk about this with Frank's arm around them, but they didn't dislike it. Frank's mouth was really close. “And you didn't do that just because you thought I would let you, right?”

“Not at all,” Frank said.

Gerard was quiet for a while, and Frank let them think uninterrupted.

“Can I lie with my head in your lap?”

Frank hummed and nodded. “Yeah, of course. Scoot.”

Gerard wiggled down until they were lying on their side on the small couch, it wasn't an ideal position, but they got comfortable enough, resting their head on Frank's thigh, the worn fabric of his jeans a little rough against their cheek.

“Can you rewind? I didn't really catch the start,” Gerard said softly.

“The start isn't that good,” Frank replied, looking down at them with a small smile.

“I know, but I want to see it anyway.”

Frank chuckled quietly, and leaned over to grab the remote.

At around halfway through the movie, unmistakable noises of tired party-goers neared the bus, Gerard heard voices talking outside the door, and then Bob, Ray and Mikey came trudging up the steps and wandering off into the bunk area. Mikey came into the doorway to the lounge and leaned against the wall, giving a small wave and a tired, drunk smile.

“Hey, how was the party?” Gerard asked. They breifly worried if it looked suspicious that they were using Frank as a pillow, if it would somehow give away that they had kissed him, but then they remembered they had done that a million times in front of the guys without it being weird, so they pushed the thought away. Mikey didn't seem at all alarmed, anyway, he just stood in the doorway and swayed lightly.

“Yeah, it was good. The guys said to tell you hi.” Mikey took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “What're you watching?”

“Dawn of the Dead,” Frank answered. Gerard noticed Mikey's black hoodie had a little, pink Clandestine Industries logo on the front, indicating it didn't come from his closet at home.

“Which one?” Mikey placed his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose.

“Remake from last year,” Frank said.

Mikey pff'd and yawned, covering his mouth with his hand and giving the TV an uninterested glance. “Original was better.”

“Frank hasn't seen that one,” Gerard said. Mikey looked like he was too tired to even keep his eyes open, and gave a heavy sigh.

“Gerard, now's not the time to try and get me to kick Frank out of the band,” he said tiredly, then he shook his head. “I'm gonna crash. Night,” he waved his hand clumsily in their general direction before turning around.

“Night, Mikes,” Gerard called after him as he went back to the bunks.

Frank put a gentle hand on the side of their head, petting their hair a little. “I _have_ seen it, you know,” he said in a humored, and slightly warning tone. Gerard looked up at him through his eyelashes.

“I know, I was just fucking with him.”

Frank smiled and rolled his eyes, still stroking Gerard's hair softly.

*

Gerard had gone with Frank to the makeshift shower at the end of the parking lot to scrub off the worst of their grime while it was still early enough for the line to be relatively short. The “shower” was really just a hose hooked to the fence by a hook, and there wasn't even a curtain. It was one of the better showers they had seen this tour. The lack of privacy wasn't really that big of an issue, at least for Frank, it seemed, he was quick and to the point about rinsing in the most critical places, and looked like he could care less if somebody got a glimpse of anything while he was washing his ass. Gerard had eventually learned that on tour, no one gave a shit about seeing somebody else's balls, everyone were so sweaty and dirty they practically had an additional layer of skin, and if you held up the shower line for too long there would be hell to pay. So they did their business as efficiently as they could, hopefully getting rid of the worst of the swampiness, then stepped back into their beat up sneakers, and handed Frank the hose. The water was fucking cold, and while it was refreshing in the sweltering southern heat, Gerard was glad to get back into their shorts, and wrap their towel around their shoulders. To their surprise, no one else had lined up after them, so now they were alone on this side of the lot.

While Frank rubbed soap into his armpits, Gerard suddenly needed to say something. They had been tossing and turning for hours last night, just replaying what had happened between them and Frank, over and over. It had been two weeks since the incident, they were two states closer to the east coast, and Frank hadn't as much as mentioned it once. He wasn't acting different at all, he was still a fucking spazz and kept throwing himself at Gerard on stage whenever he got the chance, knocking them to the ground on several occasions, but there was nothing new going on. Not a single brush of his hand across Gerard's back, no lingering glances, no secret smiles or little words. Frank was just acting exactly the same as always. It was as if the kiss had never happened.

It crossed Gerard's mind that this might not be the best time to bring it up, while Frank was washing his nobler parts, but when was it ever a good time, anyway. Good timing for difficult questions didn't exist. _Especially_ not on tour. Gerard didn't like being distracted and worried during a show, so they knew it was better to get it out sooner than later, so they could have one thing less to worry about tonight. Besides, they were alone by the fence, so they figured, what the hell. They looked at the weeds growing out of the cracked asphalt, and said,

“Why did you kiss me?”

Frank paused his scrubbing. He eyed Gerard for a moment before replying, “What do you mean.”

When Gerard looked up at him, he lifted the hose over his head again, rubbing his hand through his hair, but Gerard could tell he was listening.

“Did you do it because you wanted to, or because I asked you to?”

Frank screwed his eyes shut as the water ran over his face. “You didn't ask me to do anything, Gerard,” he said matter-of-factly, his mouth quirking up at one side. “You asked for permission, and I gave it.”

Gerard dropped their eyes to the ground. Oh.

“I did it because I wanted to,” Frank said then, casual as ever. Gerard looked back up at him, trying to read his expression, but it was hard when his hair was hanging in his face. They pulled their towel tighter around their shoulders, and watched Frank rinse soap out from under his arms.

“Do you still want to?”

Frank looked thoughtful for a moment, and shrugged. “Yeah.”

Gerard furrowed their eyebrows. “Then why haven't you? You could've just...” Gerard wasn't even sure if they wanted to kiss Frank again, but it was just too fucking weird to not at least talk about it. It was kind of a big deal. At least to Gerard, it was.

“ _Because_ ,” Frank said, finishing up and shutting off the water. “You're like,” he gestured awkwardly in Gerard's general direction, “Dealing with shit right now. I know that. You said you wanted to wait.” He bent down to pick up his blue towel that lay neatly folded on top of his sneakers and clothes.

Gerard's chest tightened. They did say that. “So... are you? Waiting?”

Frank hummed. “Well, yeah. I guess so.”

Gerard frowned at him. This wasn't fair. Gerard had no idea what the fuck they even wanted from him, no idea what the fuck they were _doing_. They knew they loved Frank, with all their heart, in a 'you're my brother and band mate and possibly soulmate and best friend' sort of way. Whether there was something else there, something more, was hard to say. Sorting out what exactly they were feeling in the romantic department was really complicated right now. They were still trying to work out a way to glue all their shattered pieces back together in the right order. It wasn't fair to have Frank waiting for them, like this, waiting for something that might never happen.

“Frank, I don't know what I want right now. There's so much going on, I -” They thought about Bert, about how the two of them had been hanging off each other like codependent leeches and fucking like their lives depended on it, and then the fight they'd had at the end, how it had just happened so abruptly, how they hadn't planned on any of it and suddenly it had all been over. Gerard didn't even remember all of it, there was so much that was just swallowed up by big, blank stretches of fuzzy darkness, and that was maybe the worst part. No, the worst part was that that darkness still seemed so inviting; it was safe, it was familiar, and Gerard spent so much time and energy just fighting it. They had no idea where Frank would fit into this. They couldn't do that whole thing again. There was so much more on the line now. If they fucked it up with Frank, everything would fall apart. Everything.

Frank was somehow steady in the midst of all of it. Gerard's life was a violent storm spinning out of control, and Frank was the fucking center, quiet and still. Gerard had no idea how the fuck he did it.

“Gee,” he said, pulling them out of their thoughts. “It's okay.” He placed a gentle hand on Gerard's shoulder and squeezed it through the towel. “Take your time. There's no rush. If you decide you want me, then we'll take it from there. Yeah?” His eyes were wide and honest, and his wet hair was plastered to his face. He was beautiful, even in his hideous khaki shorts that Gerard not-so-secretly hated; his dark tattoos stood out starkly against his bare chest, his skin just a little bit suntanned, and he had his full beam on Gerard, looking at them with gentle eyes. What the hell was wrong with Gerard? Frank was _gorgeous._ There was no fucking reason to be unsure about whether they wanted him or not, and yet they were. Everything was so confusing.

Gerard bit their lip and nodded. “Yeah.”

Frank gave them an easy smile. “You wanna go get breakfast in town? I heard someone say there's a coffee shop not too far off that has amazing vegan sandwiches.”

Gerard's stomach grumbled at the mention of food. “Fuck yeah, I'm starving,” they said, with feeling. They were suddenly really thankful for Frank's easy going energy. He made things seem like it wasn't such a big deal. Gerard could really use some of that attiude.

*

Mikey lifted his bass strap off his shoulder, set the guitar down, and came over to the side of the stage where Gerard was sitting. The technicians swarmed over to Frank to make their final checks.

“Hey,” Mikey breathed easily, bending his long limbs into sitting position and plopping down next to Gerard. Gerard lifted their chin up in a 'sup' motion. “You sound good today,” Mikey said. “Tonight's gonna be great.”

They were playing Jacksonville, along with Fall Out Boy and a number of other bands, and tomorrow was a driving day. Gerard was excited for both, as least as excited as one could be over being stuck in a van for an entire day, with just a few pit stops at gas stations for a god damn smoke break. But they would have the rest of the weekend off, fucking finally. Tonight they were opening the show, and Gerard was already thrumming with nerves and excitement.

“You think so?”

Mikey adjusted his sunglasses, that were huge and ridiculous, but were the only ones he could find that fit over his regular glasses. “Of course. Florida crowds are something special.”

“Special kind of crazy, maybe,” Gerard murmured.

“That's not a bad thing,” Mikey said defensively. Gerard laughed.

“I didn't say it was.”

Mikey swatted him lovingly on the arm. “Idiot.”

“Can I ask you something?” Gerard said before they could change their mind. Mikey hummed. Gerard tapped their fingers on their arm, and bit their lip.

“How do you know if you're in love?”

Mikey raised an eyebrow. “What is this about?”

Gerard looked straight ahead, at Frank and Ray talking with two techs at the left side of the stage. Ray pointed up at the lights and gestured with his hands to explain something, and Frank nodded. They were too far away for Gerard and Mikey to be able to hear what they were saying. None of the guys were acting out of the ordinary, so Gerard figured Frank hadn't told them about the kiss. That was good, they thought. Good to know Frank was still able to keep a secret. Gerard almost felt bad for not telling Mikey, but they wanted to keep this to themself. They wanted it to be just theirs and Frank's.

“I just don't know if I've made the right decision.” Gerard said, to answer Mikey's question. “If you were... I mean. How do you – ugh.” Mikey just looked at him from behind his sunglasses, waiting for them to find the right words.

“You would think that things would become clearer, now that I have my head screwed on right, and a lot of things _have_ , don't get me wrong. But it's like. So many things are still just a mess, and I don't know how to even start sorting it all out.” Gerard felt like their brain was spinning around in their head like a fucking hamster wheel, and they had to take a deep breath to steady themself.

“You're thinking too much,” Mikey said simply. Mikey always got it, even thought Gerard didn't give him enough credit for it. His mouth quirked up into a little smile. “Must be genetic.”

Gerard agreed with that, and had to laugh, mostly at themself, how ridiculous they were being.

“You know you don't have to figure it all out, like, _tonight_ , right?” Mikey said.

Gerard looked back over to the stage. They looked at Frank. He had his hands shoved into his back pockets and was nodding enthusiastically at whatever the tallest tech was saying.

“You know I hate it when you're right,” Gerard said drily. They could sense Mikey's tiny, smug smile, without having to look.

“Then you know what hanging out with you feels like.”

Gerard couldn't be mad if they tried, but they still elbowed Mikey in the ribs.

*

Mikey was right, the show that night was really good.

The sun hung low in the sky as they stepped out onto the stage, being welcomed by the familiar roar of delighted screaming and the warm summer heat. Gerard let the crowd swallow them up, spitting and shouting and striding back and forth across the stage, invading the guys' personal space. It just _worked_ tonight, all of their instruments moved together as one big beast, and the crowd snarled back with all they had. Gerard looked over at Frank from the front of the stage, between Venom and Hang 'Em High, and he looked back, completely drenched in sweat, his hair sticking to his face, and grinning from ear to ear.

Gerard knew they had made the right choice.

*

Gerard crouched down and pulled Frank's curtain aside to peer down at him. “Frank. You awake?”

In the dimness of the bunk, Gerard could just barely make out the dark tattoos on Frank's back, he was curled up facing the wall and his lamp was off, but when Gerard hissed at him one more time, he twisted around to squint up at them, and pulled an earbud out of his ear. Gerard could faintly hear Danzig tinnying in the dark bunk. “What is it?” Frank said sleepily.

Gerard didn't respond, just climbed in and got one knee across Frank's thighs, settling in as best as they could without being able to see shit. All the lights in the bunks were off, and Gerard's eyes hadn't totally adjusted to the tomb-like darkness of Frank's little cave, after sitting in the lounge drawing. Their back was pressed to the underside of the top bunk, it was fucking cramped in here, but Gerard was determined.

“What are you doing?” Frank whispered. As far as Gerard knew, Bob and Mikey hadn't gotten back to the bus yet, and probably wouldn't for a while, if judging by their track record for the past two weeks was anything to go by. Mikey usually stayed out until the asscrack of dawn, probably rolling around in a field with Pete somwehere. Ray had gone to bed a while ago, a little after Frank, and was currently snoring quietly in the bunk next to Frank's. The bus was quiet, apart from the faint festival sounds from far away.

“I've decided,” Gerard said.

“Decided what,” the darkness murmured back.

Gerard listened carefully to make sure they could still hear Ray's low snoring, and then leaned forward, getting their hands down on the mattress, and kissed Frank on the mouth. Or like, they aimed for his mouth, but judging from the surprised squeak Frank made, they might have hit his eye. It was kinda hard to tell in the dark.

“Sorry,” Gerard breathed, and fumbled for Frank's face, getting their hands on his jaw, so they could kiss him properly. They found his mouth, finally, and Frank kissed back briefly, but then he pushed at Gerard's shoulders, saying “Fuck, hang on.”

Gerard pulled back, confused. Frank twisted under them, and then his face was illuminated by the faint light from his ipod screen. He fumbled with the earbuds and the wires, but eventually managed to wind them together and put the ipod away under his pillow. Then he felt around in the dark, and his hands found the front of Gerard's shirt.

“What have you decided?” Frank asked again, holding onto Gerard's shirt, but not pulling.

“I want you,” Gerard whispered.

Frank chuckled. “Right now?”

Gerard leaned forward, pressing their chest into Frank's hand. “Yes.”

Frank was quiet for a moment. In the darkness of the bunk Gerard was strangely aware of their heartbeat and Frank's breathing.

“You know hotel night's in like four days, right?”

“I don't give a shit,” Gerard huffed out, and they felt Frank's giggle jumping under their hands. Then there was a decided pull on Gerard's shirt, and Frank sighed, “ _Come here_.”

They let him pull them down, and then their mouths connected again. They touched Frank's chest, feeling the faintest of raised lines where he had gotten his most recent tattoo, and they were pretty sure they made an embarassing little whining noise in the back of their throat. They felt Frank's grin against their mouth.

They fumbled around in the dark closeness of the bunk, kissing and touching and moving against each other. Their shifting and rustling with the sheets was definitely obvious, and Gerard prayed that they had enough time before anyone else came stumbling home onto the bus, and that they didn't wake up Toro. Frank was so fucking warm, and Gerard was so aware of their own harsh breathing, trying their best to be quiet, but they just melted helplessly into Frank's hands when he found his way into their jeans, and moaned into Frank's mouth. Frank pushed and pulled at them, shoving them this way and that and holding them where he wanted them, and god, Gerard should have known he would be just as demanding as he was with everything else. Just like when he was up on stage playing, he jerked and kicked and sweated like a motherfucker, and to experience it up close and personal like this was intense and fucking perfect. Frank's hot, wet mouth was really undoing Gerard, they could feel his lip ring whenever they ran their tongue over his lower lip, and Frank made these delicious little humming noises whenever they tongued at it, and it made Gerard just fucking burn up.

Frank hooked a leg around Gerard's hip, and ground his dick roughly against their thigh, letting out a low groan. He sounded close; he fucking shuddered underneath Gerard, and Gerard reached down to grip him through his briefs. That made him gasp, and Gerard just held on for dear life, their hips moving of their own free will, there was nothing Gerard could do about it at this point.

Frank shoved his hips into Gerard's grip, and made a strangled moan as he came apart. It was too dark to really see him properly, but Gerard could _feel_ him, how he tensed up under them, trembled, and then slumped back into the mattress, panting. Feeling the dampness through Frank's briefs, and knowing they had just witnessed him fucking coming, was enough to make Gerard's head spin. Frank's hand was still moving clumsily on their dick, and Gerard let themself crash over the edge, clutching onto Frank's hip and pressing their face into his sweaty neck.

“Jesus,” Frank breathed, and Gerard panted in agreement. The bunk was a really tight fit for two, but there was no way in hell Gerard was moving to climb into their own bunk. They weren't sure their legs would even hold them if they tried to stand up. They slumped down against Frank, and he didn't push them off him, just patted clumsily at their hair for a bit. The sheets were twisted and sweaty, and it was positively damp where Gerard fitted themself against Frank's side, but Frank pulled the sheet up over them anyway.

*

They were hitting the road in under an hour, to head back home, and Gerard was wandering around the parking lot, giving high fives and hugs and saying goodbye to the other bands that were also loading their gear into the trunks of their vehicles. They watched the members of Underoath getting into their bus and waving from the windows, and waved back as the engine growled to life.

“Okay, so,” they heard a familiar, timid voice behind them say. The Underoath bus started slowly rolling out of the lot, turning left onto the road.

“I want to bring Pete back to Jersey with us.”

Gerard turned around. Mikey had his hands stuffed into his pockets, aiming for casual. Gerard could tell his shoulders were hitched up ever so slightly. His brows were creased behind his big dark glasses.

“Yeah?” was all Gerard said. Mikey looked away to the side, towards where Fall Out Boy's bus was parked and getting ready to leave as well.

“Yeah, uhm,” he nodded. “I want mom and dad to meet him.”

“Really?” Gerard asked. That was kind of a big deal. Mikey looked shyly down at his sneakers, a small smile stretching across his face.

“Yeah.”

Gerard smiled too. “Hey, that's great. Is he riding on our bus?”

“I dunno, I didn't ask him yet.”

“They're going back to Chicago, right? He could trade places with Bob,” Gerard suggested. “Then we wouldn't have to drop off at the airport before we head to Jersey.”

“Oh yeah, good idea,” Mikey said. “I'll ask them.”

Gerard nodded. “Alright.” They looked over to the opposite end of the lot, where he could see two small figures in the distance carrying big boxes of equipment over to load onto the Fall Out Boy bus.

“You wanna tell me about him, then?”

Mikey hesitated for a moment, looking thoughtful. “Hm. Maybe later.”

He promptly started walking across the lot, waving his arm high in the air to a group of people exiting one of the nearest fesival tents. Gerard just grinned and shook their head.

When they eventually made their way back to the My Chem bus, after making a final round to exchange email addresses with as many bands as they could before bus call, they spotted Frank, carefully rolling several amps stacked on top of each other on a trolley towards the equipment van. He handed the trolley off to the roadies just as Gerard approached, holding their hand up in a small wave.

“How're we doing?” Gerard asked, looking at the strands of hair that was plastered to Frank's sweaty forhead. Frank turned his head and glanced towards the nearest tent, biting his lip and frowning the way he always did when there was a lot to do and he was mildly stressed.

“Uhh, I think there's one more amp, and that big cord coil that Mikey didn't want to carry, unless Craig got it. There's – no wait, there he is,” He spoke in that quick, slightly bossy tone that made him sound like he actually knew exactly what he was doing. “Okay, yeah, that's the last one, I think. That means we're good. You good?” He had his big, dark sunglasses hiding half his face, and he looked up at Gerard with his lower lip caught in his teeth. Gerard nodded.

“Cool,” Frank said, not missing a beat, just going over to the equipment van that was parked behind the bus and exchanged a few words with the roadies that Gerard didn't hear, gesticulating wildly and running a hand through his hair as they loaded the last box into the trunk and pulled the door shut.

From across the lot, Gerard spotted a figure skipping towards them with a big duffel bag thrown over his shoulder and holding a pillow under his arm. Following Pete, from behind the back of a gray bus appeared Joe, Patrick and Andy, all making their way over to the My Chem bus where Gerard was standing.

“You going to a sleepover, or something?” Gerard called as they got closer. Pete grinned.

“Yeah, with your mom. _And_ your dad.”

Gerard laughed, and Pete wrapped them up in a one-armed hug, kind of awkwardly because of the duffel bag almost slipping off his shoulder. Gerard hugged him back the best they could.

“Thanks for letting me ride with you. Really cool of you,” he said as he let go. Gerard just smiled and nodded, “Yeah, no problem.”

Frank emerged from around the back of the van and waved when he saw the guys.

“Hey! You leaving?”

“Yeah, soon. Just waiting for Bob,” Joe said as he raised his hand to meet Frank in a high five.

“For Bob?” Frank looked confused.

“He's riding with us back to the White City,” Patrick offered.

“Oh? Since when?” Frank asked.

“Since right now, pretty much,” Patrick replied.

“Isn't he going to the airport?”

“Nah, not anymore,” Pete sing-songed, and grinned.

“Oh, okay. Cool, I guess,” Frank turned to look towards the big tent. “Where is he?” Just as if he was summoned, Bob came bounding down the steps from the bus, backpack slung over one shoulder and a pair of drumsticks clutched in his hand.

“I'm here, you amoeba,” he boomed, and ruffled Frank's hair a little, and Frank hissed and batted him away.

“Hope to see you here again next year, dude, it's been awesome,” Frank said cheerfully to Patrick, and Patrick agreed.

“Alright, hobbits, let's get out of here,” Bob said.

“I hope Bob won't be _that_ much of a pain in the ass for you,” Gerard said, to which Bob uttered a protesting “ _Hey_ ,” and Pete giggled.

“Good luck having two drummers on your bus for the next seven hours,” Gerard joked as they embraced Patrick in a hug. Patrick laughed in their ear.

They all hugged and said their goodbyes and promised to text updates on Pete's bearing in Jersey, and then suddenly the bus call had gone, and they had to head inside. Gerard waved at Andy and Joe through the open window slot in the kitchen, and they rolled out onto the road, away from the disassembling lot.

Frank leaned against the sink and gave Gerard a lopsided grin.

“God damn it, we survived another tour. I can't fucking believe it.”

Gerard looked past him, and over at Pete, who was hanging off of Mikey kind of in a similar way to how Frank liked to hang off of Bob when he wanted to annoy him. Mikey didn't seem to mind it too much, though he was a little red faced, and giggled as he tried to tell Pete to stop. _Giggled_. Like a school girl. Gerard looked back to Frank, and they shared a look at Mikey's expense, eyebrows raised. Frank looked a vaguely disturbed, like he was about to start asking who this person was and what they had done to Mikey.

“Oh god, there's two of them now,” Ray groaned, shielding his eyes with his hand. Gerard grinned.

It had been the hardest tour ever, but it had also been the best.

The end.

**Author's Note:**

> God it's good to finally get this out of my system. I've been cleansed now. Hope u liked it :)


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